


The Melody to Silence

by OBLVN



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Author Projecting onto Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Blankets, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, For Me, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Light Angst, M/M, No Smut, Peace, only mildly at the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 09:42:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30070344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OBLVN/pseuds/OBLVN
Summary: A blessing it is, and nothing less than perfect timing, when Dream finds himself brought back from a panic attack by George providing him the comfort he needs. His gentle words, listening ear, and soothing touch make everything Dream worries about disappear into thin air, leaving a blank slate to fill itself with peaceful content as they drift to a happier place together, where only calmness is allowed to surround them.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 196
Collections: MCYT





	The Melody to Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Two self-comforting fics in a row, let's go boys

It’s honestly not even something to cry over. People close their apps on accident all the time, it’s not a disaster when you swipe away Spotify in the middle of a song, right? It’s an easy fix, even. Open the app back up, and press play. Like nothing ever happened. Dream’s phone ends up thrown to the floor instead, and the AirPods that were blasting songs to him bounce away beside it, one ending under the nightstand, the other ready to be accidentally stepped on.

He doesn’t understand why it’s making his eyes burn and his nostrils flutter when he clenches his jaw and holds his breath, trying to prevent the forming of the lump in his throat. It’s to no avail and swallowing becomes harder, the breath he releases comes out shakier than intended.

_Don’t cry,_ he thinks as he breathes in deep, puffing out his chest entirely, but his thoughts catch up to him quicker. Anything and everything that has bothered him, it crowds his mind in mere seconds, and he can’t stand anymore. His bed was always meant to be a place of comfort, but recently he found it to be a catalyst to crying, more than anything. When he sits with crossed legs on the blanket and stares into the air, all threads keeping the worries suspended above his head come loose, and it all crashes down on him like a suddenly tropical rain storm.

The eye of the tornado has shifted, he’s in the middle of the destructive winds now that threaten to pick him up and throw him back down like a rag doll. How do you even escape such a thing? He could try to blow back, but it would have about as much effect as throwing a pebble against a brick wall in attempt to push it over. He’s there, he’s stuck, and he can’t get himself out.

His bedroom door opens distantly as he sucks in breaths fast before pushing them back out until his fingers tingle and his chest starts hurting. Every breath feels worse, windpipe squeezing together until it feels like he can’t breathe anymore, inching closer and closer to losing all sense of his surrounding.

“You’re okay, I’m here,” a voice says beside him. He can’t get himself to move his hands from his face to look who has found him, but there’s a good guess. A weight is being draped over his shoulders and back, before he feels the mattress dipping behind him and arms caging him in. They keep the weight in place and pry themselves between his upper arms and fore arms, pulling him against whoever has come to sit behind him and encouraging his hands to leave his face.

While the arms shift to find a more comfortable position, slowly pulling his own arms down, his breathing finds a more regular pace. The last of the hurricane seems to move away, just a breeze left as his lungs get used again to the normal pattern they know better than the panic. If they could speak, they would be thanking whoever has been holding Dream in place, settling his feelings back down.

“It’s all good,” the person says again, and finally Dream is able to distinguish the voice as the one that belongs to George. He recognizes the heaviness around him to be a thick blanket, slender arms keeping it in place as one of the hands attached to it traces circles over Dream’s upper arm. The sheer panic has left, the chaos has restructured, but the emotions remain, vividly and hurtingly until the corners of his mouth pull down and a sniffle gives away his silent crying.

“What happened?” George asks, and Dream feels himself being pulled tightly to his chest. He knows if he tries to speak, everything might fall out like a net of marbles breaking and sending them across the floor with that terrible sound of hard glass meeting wood, multiplied by a dozen. His eyelashes feel wet when he rubs the back of his hand across them, and his eyes feel like they want to be just be closed, puffy lids reinforcing the sentiment. As they close, he sucks in a deep breath, preparing himself to speak.

“I was listening to music,” he says shakily. Months ago he wouldn’t have felt safe to do so, but he allows for his body to relax and lean back, knowing George is there to catch him and keep him steady in place.

“And then?” George encourages him. He clenches his jaw for a few seconds, biting down the urge to break down crying again, and releases eventually.

“I accidentally closed Spotify while a nice song was on,” he admits. Nothing changes about the way George is handling him. He keeps breathing at the same pace, his hand keeps circling, he doesn’t judge. It offers Dream the little drop of confidence he needs to continue. “And that’s not a disaster, I’ll fucking live, you know, but it just…” he falters, figuring out the intricacies of the way his tangled mind appears to work. “I don’t know, I guess it was just the last drop and I was reminded of everything shitty, and it was too overwhelming.” He silently praises himself for not crying while talking, and he thanks George for it, without words, as he tugs the blanket away from his back. Without looking backwards, he offers it to him, and fortunately he gets the memo.

Their moment of contact is lost for a few seconds as George navigates the blanket to wrap it around himself, and takes Dream into the warmth of the woolen cave by holding the corners in his hands and wrapping them back around Dream. George’s legs find their way over Dream’s, and his chin comes to rest on the shoulder in front of it, enveloping Dream into safety as he leans back against the headboard of the bed.

“And how do you feel now?” He asks as they’ve settled. How _does_ he feel? It’s hard to formulate it inside his head, let alone transport it to his mouth to say it out loud, but he tries.

“Messy,” he decides as he closes his eyes, feeling warmth moving further into his skin until every last goosebump is gone. “Relieved from letting it all out, but still kinda sad.” He feels George’s hum buzz through his chest and into his own back as he frowns at himself, unsure why his eyes start stinging again.

“Do whatever you need to do,” George answers, tightening the embrace, much to Dream’s content. “You can cry, or you can sleep, or you can scroll through Instagram, whatever you need for it to die down,” he says, breath moving through Dream’s hair as he sinks down further. “You can even just exist, be here without a goal for a bit. I’ll be right here with you.”

“Thank you,” Dream whispers as he stares blankly ahead, his eyes translating static onto the wall where he stares for too long. The hurricane is gone, even the breeze is gone, it’s just them floating in a cloudless sky, no sound, no obstacles, an empty space made of impossible peace.

Even the traffic outside seems to understand this is not a moment to interrupt, as no cars whizz by, and no motorcycle rumbles, or airplane motors echo, or people yell. Thick air of silence, all around, filling every crevice with something fuller than safety.

Nothing else exists, not the phone on the floor or the AirPods bounced into hidden places, not the door moving ever so slightly from the flow of air infiltrating through the outer walls. Just them, in a blanket, patiently waiting for it all to pass. And it will pass.

Dream finds himself letting all bothersome thoughts flow out of him into nothingness, bathing in the moment for as long as he’ll be allowed to, by George, or by the universe, whichever gets tired of it first. The gentle rise and fall of the chest he leans against is a steady reminder of the structural ways of life that never leave, even when disruption is forced upon it. Some things never change, and he grasps at them, clutching them between his fingers until they cramp. And then, even when they inevitably have to let go in exhaustion, it will still be there, contently in his palm, telling him he was desperate for something already granted.

The bird singing its song outside doesn’t disturb him like it usually does. It’s rather added value, and the feeling is amplified when George moves his hand to rake gently through Dream’s locks, massaging his scalp as his fingertips move back and forth. He lets his head move however it's pushed, giving in to everything he seems to need.

From George’s throat sounds a careful hum, a song they both know by heart, and Dream never knew he needed to hear such a thing. It’s still fragile, but it grows in confidence as it progresses, and Dream gives in. _Everything will be okay,_ he concludes. _You are here, and everything will be okay._ Tied together harmoniously, it all makes for peace of mind, like it’s been swept blank and he’s allowed to start over.

He reminds himself, one final time, _everything will be okay,_ as the comfort swallows him into a peaceful sleep, George’s hum being the last thing leaving his attention as the dark nothingness fuses with the world he gets a chance to escape, the promise of waking up to better hours and better feelings lingering in the air before settling down like morning dew upon his misty mind.

_Everything is okay._

**Author's Note:**

> I unfortunately found my safe space violated after posting my last work, and the only way I know how to work through it is by writing more dnf, so I hope this once again was as calming for you as it was for me
> 
> I may not react often to comments, mainly because of some personal issues I have, but I do read them all and I appreciate them so so much, thank you for making me feel welcome and validated
> 
> mandatory twitter plug: @_OBLVN maybe follow? :)
> 
> I love you, and everything will be okay


End file.
